All the Little Ways
by Icecubey
Summary: "And when I look back, it staggers me to see all the little ways you lived" - To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die. Puzzleshipping.
1. The Empath

This is a separate series of one-shots dedicated to exploring the ways that Atem might have remained in Yugi's life in tiny ways.

I'm not sure how many or few there will be so... I hope you can enjoy whatever I do post!

Everything will be rated T+ for instances of swearing and possibly adult situations :O (I doubt it even requires the rating but whatevs 8D). Always assume Puzzleshipping in whatever capacity pleases you!

Thanks for Reading!

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Summary: Because sometimes you have to hear it from someone who's been there.

**The Empath**

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Yugi stared at the type print on the script, scrutinizing the highlighted words. The paper was crimped at the bottom where he'd been clutching it for the past week. He had started hearing the line in his dreams.

"Touch up his make-up, he looks blotchy."

The voice seemed to come from a distance, like it was passing through water. He barely registered the command, and completely missed that the pronoun was referencing _him_ until there was a sponge dusting his cheeks. He sneezed from the compact powder tickling his nose. There was bustling all around him, and he imagined himself to be a goldfish – a very bewildered, fatigued goldfish.

"All right, clear the set."

The scurrying suddenly ceased and the dull roar of commotion turned into a vigilant hum. All eyes trained on him again.

"Okay Mr. Mutou, you've got this. Remember, fire!" The director was standing squarely beside the large camera, a curled script nearly crumpled in his grip. Only the draining of blood from his knuckles belied the frustration of the man in the sunglasses and sheepdog haircut.

Yugi shuffled and after an awkward pause nodded jerkily. The director believed for all his worth that "fire" was a stage direction with all the clarity of crystal, and Yugi just couldn't shatter the illusion. A girl dashed past him and then the sheet was gone from his hand and he was alone in the spotlight again.

"You got this Yug'!"

"C'mon Yugi!"

He squinted, desperately wishing that he could see his friends lined up against the back wall, banished behind the demarcation line set by the director and a fortuitously errant extension cord half an hour before.

He sighed heavily and steeled his nerves. There was a click and then a rushed "Take 23, Rolling."

His shoulders squared and he repositioned his feet stiffly. He raised his chin the way they'd commanded and narrowed his gaze at the lens. To the room, he appeared cool and confident; personally, he felt a bit like a clown.

In the darkened rear of the sound stage, Jou's nostrils flared as he crossed his fingers. He had already botched two takes by talking after the director had called "action". He had finally convinced Anzu that she didn't need to cover his mouth to keep him silent. It also helped that Honda would suplex him if he didn't keep his trap shut.

The hush intensified and then exploded with a crisp, "Action!"

"Think you've got what it takes to challenge the King of Games?"

Really it was an incredibly simple line. This endorsement was just a thinly-veiled attempt for the tournament moderators to cash-in on the location of their final rounds. Between Kaiba Corp. and Yugi Mutou, the tournament was paying for itself. Yugi just thought it'd be nice for grandpa to afford that renovation he'd been lusting after.

"Cut!"

He tensed as he waited for the gavel. The last 10 repetitions had all been deemed unacceptable for one reason or another; his favorite explanation so far had referenced the sun reflecting off the splash caused by leaping dolphins.

The director stepped into the outer circle of light created by crossing spotlights. "Okay Mr. Mutou that was much better."

Yugi sighed in relief.

"…But you seem wishy washy! Where's that charisma from all those early interviews eh?" The man's tone was perfectly patient; it wasn't even an attack, to be fair. He almost sounded conversational.

The blood drained from Yugi's face and the world slowed.

Jou kicked off the wall and nearly tripped over the extension cord when Honda yanked him back by his hood. "OI! What was wrong with that!? It was perfect!"

Honda put the blonde in a headlock, speaking with clenched teeth. "Stop making a scene, it's hard enough without you butting in!"

"The guy's got no taste!"

"Yugi?"

Their routine was cut short by Anzu's inquisitive tone. They looked up in time to see Yugi striding off the set. There was a curious look on his face; it was a tie between concentration and hysteria.

"Mr. Mutou, please go—"

"I just need five minutes." His nerves jumped and sailed along the teetering cadence of his request.

"Can we try it once mo—"

"_I need five minutes_."

The studio went silent for the first time in two hours and Honda and Jou's jaws unhinged. Anzu was pulling away from the wall with one arm out, as if it would stop him. She was one foot over the cord when a tug on her wrist halted her.

"Keep them in line. I'll go." The kind voice made even the obvious suggestion that Honda and Jou were a circus act sound sweet. Anzu couldn't find grounds to argue with Ryou and he was 10 feet away before she thought to nod.

The door into the empty dressing room swung out behind Yugi, and Ryou caught it before it shut again. Then he was in the room and shutting it behind him and fumbling for the sliding lock. He was quiet as he watched Yugi cautiously. His friend stood frozen before the mirror, head down, like a trapped animal.

And then, bedlam.

Yugi's arms careened as he slammed a fist into the counter on the vanity. Cologne hit the floor and a bottle shattered; the stool leaned off-kilter and the make-up stand rocked dangerously. Then a hand cut across its surface like a swinging blade and flowers, soda bottles and brushes fell to the floor. For his part, Ryou did not interrupt as Yugi parted with better sense.

But it was hard, when his friend's shouts were full of woe and the familiar tones of a heart strained too much.

The ruckus diminished into harsh breathing.

"I don't…"

Ryou stepped in time with Yugi's first words, waiting at arm's length. He did not have to guess what had demolished the make-up vanity, but Yugi very much needed to say it out loud, for his own sanity.

"He always did this stuff."

Ryou's heart squeezed even as his face remained placid and patient. His fingers itched to offer a comforting gesture, but he knew better than to interrupt the catharsis.

"He was the one who handled the victory speeches and press junkets and the pictures." Yugi fell back heavily against the now-still vanity, barely registering as Ryou bent around him to right the stool and guide him to a seat. "I just watched. He had enough showmanship for both of us." One hand massaged his eyes, but he was just shielding his shame. Ryou would hear the tears in his voice anyway.

Ryou nodded, even though Yugi was not looking, and waited still.

Yugi dragged his pressed fingers down his face, smearing tears against his skin, and rubbed his mouth. He sniffed, feeling his eyes cloud with the dull sting of more tears, and spoke around the thick lump in his throat.

"There's just so much stuff he didn't tell me."

And then he shook his head and said no more, because there was nothing he could say that would eclipse that truth.

He lived a very happy life. They all did really, and he did not need to be reminded. But that would never change the fact that he was never going to see his best friend again, and that no time on Earth with him would have been enough. And he cried now because life moved so quickly that he had the luxury of forgetting this hard truth amongst the rigmarole of fond memories and everyday life. It was in the few still moments, in the difficult times and the hush of a Sunday afternoon that it occurred to him that he was never going to see him again.

He did not notice that Ryou had knelt in front of him until his soft voice broke the silence.

"The day after my mom and Amane died, I tried to do the laundry. I threw a liter of bleach and some detergent into the machine with my shirts and dad's ties. I ruined everything except my one white t-shirt."

Yugi looked up, a tear tracking down his cheeks as he looked at Ryou with muted surprise. He was kneeling, his hands resting in his lap with his fingers laced and his thumbs touching at their ends. His voice was very matter-of-fact, as if he were reciting the weather.

"Dad didn't know what to do with himself. He slept until noon and forgot to call in sick. I think a coworker visited the house and notified his job, because they didn't fire him. I tried to cook for us." Then a rueful chuckle bubbled in his throat and he shook his head. "I thought I should make something my mom had always cooked. I tried making her hayashi rice for dinner sometime that week…. I don't remember much of that first week, but I remember sitting at the table with my dad that night and focusing on not spitting out the rice. The demi-glace was horrible, but we stomached it. I think we thought it would be an insult to my mom's memory to not savor it."

Yugi's eyes turned glassy again as he saw his pain mirrored back at him in the calm reflecting pool of Ryou's memory.

It was usually enough to find sanctuary in his friends. They had all lost a friend in Atem, and they all tried to believe that that was comfort enough. Nobody, not even Yugi, could acknowledge that his loss and everyone else's that day were worlds apart.

He had never realized that Ryou had walked this road before him. He never spoke about his departed mother and younger sister; it was barely more than heresay that they had even passed away and had not simply spirited away to another place like Jou's mother and sister. But here he was, offering a hand to pull Yugi up from one of the many stumbles he was bound to take. He had thought once that he was tripping blindly through the dark – who of them had known a loss like this? To think, that Ryou had been there the whole time, patient and reticent, knowing.

He coughed, and his voice rasped out a question he had wondered at more times than he'd ever remember; he had not believed anyone would know the answer. "Does it get better?"

Ryou cocked his head thoughtfully, then shrugged. "Well it won't get worse than this commercial shoot."

Yugi laughed and dragged his hand across his eyes. "Well thank god for that."

"And to be honest, I make a pretty good plate of hayashi rice now."

Finally, Ryou laid a comforting hand on his forearm and Yugi felt in it the words Ryou had neglected to say.

It was never going to be _easy_ to live without Atem. There were going to be moments for the rest of his life where he regretted everything he hadn't done or said; he would never stop having experiences he wanted to share with the dead man. He would struggle to learn how to live without him, because he had no alternative. But then, if it were easy, could he have truly called Atem his friend?

Ryou, most of all, understood that it was not about expecting things to get better, to hope that the pain would lift and that he'd be left with a blissful cloud of happy memories that would snuff out his regrets. It was all he could expect to just keep living and to live _despite_ his death, instead of under it, and to know that it was his right to be happy even if his friend was gone. It was some consolation knowing that his friend was finally at rest.

Ryou pulled his hand back and planted it on the ground, pushing himself up. "So I can't lie, I'm pretty hungry. Think you can go out there and channel Atem so we can be finished and go eat?"

Yugi snorted and chuckled. Well, nobody would be able to "channel" the Pharaoh better than he, right?

Breathing deeply, he paused – and then he struck a pose and jabbed his finger into Ryou's shoulder. "Think _you've_ got what it takes to challenge the _King _of Games!?"

Despite the hurt he felt in the moments that he realized the man was dead, he knew better than to think he was _gone_.

"See? You sound more like him already!"

And they laughed as they righted the mess.

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Thanks for reading :) Until next time!


	2. Forecasts

Summary: The smallest things are the hardest to let go.

**Forecasts**

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He studied the back of the seat before him intensely. For the fifth time, he read the instructions over the tray table about vending machine and bathroom locations and where the cars with reserved seating began and the free seating ended. Osaka was still 45 minutes and 8 stops away.

He studied but the words did not register.

"_What're you doing mom?"_

_He shoveled his plainly salted rice ball down, trying to pull on a shoe with his free hand. The red-headed woman was hunched over, face practically buried in their freezer. _

"_I'm making your grandfather shabu shabu and I know there's a small piece of yellowtail in here. Oh where did I put it…"_

_Yugi shrugged, sliding around her hoping the rice was sticky enough to not fall from his mouth while he started washing his plate._

"_Oh dear I'll do that, I don't want you to miss your train." His mother straightened holding two plastic-wrapped bundles. In that flighty way that she always moved, she slid in beside her son and placed the frozen piece of fish under the stream of water._

"_You're going to defrost it like that?" He put the plate on their small drying mat and started on his chopsticks and snickered. "You couldn't ask him to pick something else?"_

_His mother huffed, rolling her eyes and then giggling in that quiet, secretive way that she reserved for complaining about her father. "Yes, well you know him." Then she spun around him and pulled open the drawer of utensils and began gathering the place setting for her father._

_Yugi hit the faucet's handle, shutting the flow of water and grabbed up the small hand towel. "Okay, I'm—"_

_He paused when his gaze landed on the lumpy, frozen piece of what was supposed to have been okonomiyaki sitting out on the counter._

"_Mom, why is this out?"_

_She sighed and her voice was that waifish, absent tone she used when she was trying to coerce him unknowingly into chores. "Oh sweetheart let me throw that out. You're not going to eat it."_

_Yugi's jaw worked as he tried to think of a succinct rebuttal, but there really wasn't one – not one that he could say to his mother, anyway. "Mom, I already told you, I want to keep it."_

"_Why are you emotionally attached to failed okonomiyaki, honestly?" She did not say it cruelly, but it was clear in her tone that she thought he was being foolish._

_He groped for something clever, but as he stepped away from the counter as if to block his mother from the old food, he saw the place setting on the table._

"_MOM!" He lunged at the table, grabbing up the red and gold lacquered chopsticks resting in front of the empty placemat. "These are mine!"_

_His mother reacted in kind to his overreaction, drawing back in shock. "Yugi don't be childish! I just started the dishwasher and grandpa's chopsticks are in there!"_

_He froze, eyes darting back to the okonomiyaki and the dishwasher behind it, trying to think of what he could say to appease his mother. "I know just, uh, use my other ones! Please! And please just put my okonomiyaki back in the freezer, it's sentimental to me. I've got to go!"_

_He spoke quickly to keep his mother from interjecting, foregoing the usual kiss goodbye as he threw a hand up in farewell; shoving the chopsticks into his backpack, he ran from the kitchen and the explanation he probably owed his poor mother._

Yugi sighed, leaning back into his seat and turning his head toward the window, tucking it into the corner made by the seat back and train wall, covering his face with one hand.

He could not tell her why he would not throw away the freezer-burned, mangled piece of bonito flakes, tempura powder and eggs, or why he would not let even his grandfather use a pair of chopsticks. How could he explain that they had not been his but someone else's, when she had watched him use them across the table from her for two years?

She probably didn't realize he hadn't touched them in over a year, coinciding perfectly with a rushed trip to Egypt.

His eyes pressed shut tighter and the knot in his throat burned.

He could not tell her that they were the few keepsakes he had, the only physical proof left of the dead man he'd called 'partner'. They were completely mundane, and even someone in mourning would not have placed such heavy stock in chopsticks a year and a half later, or so he assumed. But then, that person probably had plenty of things left to remember their loved one by, especially if they'd lived in the same house.

What did Yugi have? A gilded box, boots that Atem had favored, a failed cooking experiment… and chopsticks - so few signs to the world that his friend had existed when he had meant so very much. Anything left of his past life was sealed in the mysterious Egyptian underground, watched carefully by the Ishtars, and the cartouche remained in Anzu's care still. For a life that had changed his so irrevocably, he had incredibly little to remember him by, and it was an ache in his heart that he had to live with.

The train eased into the station at Mihara and passengers boarded and disembarked. Yugi curled into himself just a little tighter.

Two stations later the train flooded with passengers. Yugi pulled his backpack onto the floor in front of him, trying to turn his body even more into the wall of the train. The only sounds were the shuffling of feet and murmurs of apology as people squeezed past each other. He sensed when someone sat down but propriety dictated that he shouldn't stare. Taking a sullen glance at the sky, he snorted quietly at the cloud cover; it would figure that the weather was reflecting his bad mood. He hoped it was not a portent for a boring day of classes.

It would be easier if he could just explain to his mother the things that had happened to him and his friends. He had his grandfather and that was a blessing he was sure he took for granted daily, but on days like today, his mother's comfort and compassion would've gone a long way. It was not that life was hard without Atem – to the contrary, he thought he was living more fully since he'd returned from Egypt than he had in all the years before. But his best friend was still dead and it was days like this one that forced him to recall that hard truth.

With a sour taste in his mouth, he straightened out of the curl that had stopped being comfortable one station ago.

Out of his peripheral vision he noticed a hand and, too tempted to look, turned his gaze to realize the person next to him was holding out a box of Pretz.

The girl was smiling at him and looked completely at ease, which was a little odd for a complete stranger. Trains weren't a hotbed for socializing considering the daggers one got for making too much noise. He glanced between the girl and the Pretz cautiously.

"It's okay, take one. " She urged him, her voice hushed and Yugi was almost surprised; decorum and social candor never struck him as a package deal in high school students, at least not in people outside his social group.

Smiling, albeit with confusion, he nodded and pulled a stick from the box. He wasn't much for green tea flavored things but he also wasn't much for being rude. He tried to ignore her as she continued to watch him. Then she faced forward and he thought that would be the end of it, until she whispered again.

"You looked like you needed it. I didn't mean to bother you."

Feeling a bit like an ass, Yugi immediately turned his whole body toward her and whispered back. "No you weren't – I mean, thank you." He ducked his head in a sheepish bow of thanks and was oddly relieved when her shoulder turned inward and she looked at him again.

"It was my pleasure." She had no trouble meeting his gaze and she gestured for him to eat another piece. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you look so familiar?"

Literally forced into a corner, Yugi smiled sheepishly and ducked his head. "You might have seen me on a TV commercial or in a game ad. I'm Yugi Mutou, I play Duel Monsters professionally."

"Ah!" The girl, so excited by her confirmation, exclaimed too loudly and immediately shrunk in her seat as ten curious and disturbed heads turned in her direction. She latticed her hands across her mouth and stared, mortified, at Yugi. For her benefit, he did not hide his humored smile.

Put at ease, she lowered her hands and whispered again. "Of course, how could I not notice? I see this ad for Duel Monsters at the station every morning and those commercials that aired in May for that tournament in Domino were you! I didn't think I'd meet a celebrity on the way to school today…" Yugi, forever reaching new depths of humility, bowed his head to her wonder.

"Well I wouldn't say 'celebrity'…"

"If your name and face are on TV, that's celebrity enough for me!" She ducked again as her voice pulsed with a bit too much excitement and the eyes across the aisle darted towards her.

Yugi, hoping to bring an end to the unfounded fawning, put a hand up. "Well I appreciate… the regard?" Of course, she hadn't exactly complimented him but it was too late to back out now without sounding completely awkward. Almost stumbling on the nicety, he garbled out, "It's nice to meet you."

Lapsing into the expected introduction, the student thrust her hands into her lap and leaned forward. "I'm Hiromi Takagi, and I'm a senior at Shukugawa High School."

Yugi cocked his head thoughtfully, recognizing the name of the school in Kobe. "The same Shukugawa as the university?"

Her smile lit again. "Yes the same! Although I applied to other universities too… I don't think I want to go to KSGU anymore…"

Yugi, though caught off guard by the very open nature of this odd girl, was pulled in none the less. Considering his previous mood, any distraction was welcome, even the attention of a queerly candid high schooler. Suddenly the trip to Osaka did not loom so dismally before him.

Seven stations later, with a healthy amount of whispering between them, Yugi had learned more about Hiromi than he had about some of his own classmates from his high school years. Given that she was awaiting the results of her entrance exams for college, he'd been compelled to tell her about his own entrance exam trials and his acceptance into the city university. She had been delighted to learn it was one of the schools she had applied to.

At length, Hiromi's eyes began darting to the digital ticker across the car's front exit, reading the words they all could have recited by heart. Yugi saw her behavior mirrored by people all around them, anticipating the large station at Shin-Kobe. He leaned in, recalling her attention.

"Well thanks for the Pretz. Your timing was pretty spot-on."

The girl's eyes crinkled with her easy smile and she shook her head. "No, no it was nothing. I'm sorry I've kept you from enjoying the ride."

Yugi did not think it pertinent to correct her, to say he actually owed her a favor after her excellent distraction. Instead, he returned his typical, kind smile.

"If you don't mind, please take this." Yugi did not register the rehearsed phrase until he felt the personal contact card drop into his upturned palm. He had never picked up on this trend, because his junior high days had not afforded him a plethora of people that really wanted to contact him. By high school, the habit's chance to sink in had passed.

"Oh thanks!" He immediately started groping his pockets for a card that he knew wasn't there. "I'm… uh, sorry I don't have one." Really he wasn't sorry, but he did not want her to misinterpret his lack of self-promotion for an unwillingness to talk to her again. "Um, I could write my mail on the back of one of yours?"

Hiromi nodded, a strange smile on her face, like she was smothering a laugh. Yugi averted his eyes, reminding himself that there was no reason to be embarrassed – the gang didn't have the silly ID cards either. Then he felt a poke against his chest and looked down to see the card she was offering him. He grabbed it quickly, glancing at her – she was smiling again, her cheeks clearly flushed. He scrambled, hand diving into his back pocket for a pen – apparently one was never too old to have awkward moments with girls. He did his best to scribble his name and contact neatly without a surface to lean on.

When he looked up, she was rising to her feet with those around her, listening to the same announcements that played on every approach to Shin-Kobe. Yugi extended the card and then brushed it past her fingers, bringing her attention ricocheting back.

Her expression clearly suggested that she had just won the lottery. Yugi's humility pumped the gas and hauled into overdrive.

"Thank you so much!" She bowed while trying to sling her bag across her shoulders, teetering as the train slowed.

Yugi found the whole image reminiscent of Anzu in high school, and fought hard to keep the silly grin off his face.

"Do you normally ride this train?" She was pulling away from their row of seats but she lingered; her open, friendly graces smoothed over the moment of awkwardness and she held against the tide of people pushing past her, awaiting an answer.

Yugi felt a flutter of pleasure in his stomach – he had not expected to make a new friend today.

"Yes, unless I'm late!"

She giggled, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up as she finally got swept up with the tide of people heading for the car's door. She raised a hand, waving as the rest of her was obscured by the people disembarking at Shin-Kobe.

He heard a faint "until next time!" garbled by anxious commuters, and then the train finally slowed to a stop and the hydraulics of opening doors filtered into the car as people milled out. It was a moment before the train smoothed into full-speed again as commuters to Osaka boarded the train for the last leg of the Sanyou line.

Yugi leaned back, rubbing his mouth, feeling a bit foolish about the silly smile he was trying to wipe off his face. It hardly felt like the day had started as poorly as it had. Checking his watch, he shifted as he waited the eight minutes to Shin-Osaka Station. Trying to occupy his hands, he pulled the card Hiromi had given him out of his pocket, examining it.

It said everything she had already said about herself, with an email address and her mobile number embossed under her name. Then he read the card again, and his eyes stuck on her first name. He had to hold himself back from letting the realization become a spectacle to bewilder the other passengers.

Of all the ways she could have written her first name – this girl who had unwittingly pulled him out of another day dotted by sad reminiscing and thoughts of what-if – she would write her name with the characters for "beautiful sun".

The train broke the city limits and the clouds opened, pouring sun down on his face as he leaned his chin into his hand and looked up at the sky, blinking back the sting in his eyes as his smile broke again.

"Still looking after me huh?"

And the train barreled into the sun-stained Osaka.

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A/N: It is personally hard for me that Yugi has very little to remember Atem by and so I felt compelled to write this piece. I like to think that Atem brought Hiromi to him because he would never leave him to cope on his own if he could help it.

Thanks for reading :)


	3. Himawari

A/N: This started to get so long I was calling it "the little oneshot that could."

Thanks for reading!

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Summary: Happiness and grief look the same in the mirror.

Writing music: "Breathe Me" by Sia

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**Himawari**

* * *

Yugi preferred to sleep in whenever the circumstances allowed. Though it had been a small handful of years since he'd last been able to call himself a 'teenager', he still worshipped his bed like one.

But, for whatever reason, he never slept in on this particular day.

He often tried to analyze what about the spring day woke him early. As the days warmed, he would begin to sleep with his skylight open, so perhaps it was something about the crispness to the air, the easy hum of the season that would rouse him gently, as if someone had woken him with song.

Then again, this didn't seem to apply to any other day in spring, including those where he was scheduled to take the morning shift.

Then there were the phone calls and the mails and the SMS – the round robin of discussion between him and his friends that probably could have gone unsaid if they were all truly honest. Someone checked the weather station for the exact time of sunset, even though they'd known for a week already. Another checked train schedules and advisories about the line's service condition, despite the obvious fact that they knew the schedule by heart and would have probably heard if there was an unusual service interruption. He himself had already verified all of these every day for the previous week, even going so far as to make sure his mother knew he couldn't be home for dinner at the normal time that night. Perhaps anticipation of this discussion was what woke him before 10am. Or perhaps, he would be loath to admit, it was just anxiety that dragged his mind into cognizance.

Old habits died a slow, slow death.

Hence, he was already sitting up in bed, arms propped out straight across his bent knees when his mother knocked softly and poked her head in the door.

"Oh you're awake dear. Anzu is on the phone from America! I said I didn't know if you'd be awake so I—"

"Thanks mom." Yugi gave her a bleary-eyed but sincere smile, not entirely awake yet. "I'll take it in here."

"Ok dear. I'll make you some hamburg then…"

Yugi's stomach immediately growled as he imagined last night's dinner, salivating at the thought. Before his thoughts could carry him toward the promise of breakfast, he twisted in his muss of sheets and reached for the cordless phone sitting on his headboard. He cleared his throat as he brought it to his ear, tapping the 'call' button.

"Morning Anzu."

"Heh, well I can't say it's morning here, so good evening Yugi."

"Oh right. What time is it there even?"

"9:14pm… I'm sitting in bed. Did I wake you up?"

"No I was up… you know how it is."

"Hnn… doing anything nice today? It's Friday."

Yugi couldn't help but smile, maybe with a little rue in his expression, at the thinly veiled concern in her voice. At some unacknowledged point in their friendship, he'd realized that Anzu had a frightening maternal streak. So it was almost awkward – for them to dance around the real question at hand like it was really any other day.

"I'm going to watch the store until the evening shift, and then Grandpa is going to take over. I think Hiromi is going to come here straight from class and eat dinner here with us…"

"Oh you have to say hi to her for me! How many semesters does she have left?"

"Just three I think. She's thinking about taking summer and winter courses to speed things up though… I think she's tired of hanging around people that are done with school." There was a chuckle in his voice as he considered his girlfriend's disgruntled attitude about being one of the only people still in university. Although she was right on track for someone her age, hanging around with a slightly older crowd made the twenty-one year old antsy. Still, he couldn't blame her when her classes in Osaka constantly exiled her to Fukuyama where the fare was 2000 yen cheaper than the commute from Domino. Besides, they hadn't really sold her parents on her staying at his house yet, even when Mama had repeatedly offered to set up a futon in her room for the college student.

"Heh, she's so dedicated. I don't know how she keeps up with class when she misses so much because of your tournaments…"

"Well it's not like she goes to every single one of them. I don't think it's all that exciting for her."

Anzu laughed across the line, and Yugi was at ease again. Something about talking with his oldest friend, no matter the topic, always settled him, even when he'd otherwise be ready to fall apart. His first love was very handy that way.

"Is Ben there with you?"

"Oh yeah, he's just reading a script _again…_" There was humor in her voice, and then she lapsed into English that he could not keep up with as she addressed the unheard entity on the other end of the line. Yugi waited as her laughter filtered through the receiver and he grinned, scratching his temple.

"Hah, sorry."

"S'okay, don't worry."

"So…"

"Hmm?"

He could feel how thick the air became in two and a half tense seconds and he bowed his head, wishing she'd just come out with it. It had been the whole reason for her long-distance call anyway.

"Is she going with you?"

Although not the question he'd expected, he was relieved that they'd stopped beating around the bush at least.

"…No. She knows I have to run out to meet Jou and Honda around six, so I think she's just going to stay here and do whatever until I get back. My mom might be back by then to keep her company."

"It's cute that they're so friendly. I'm happy it worked out that way."

Although there was barely any pause, Yugi could hear her thought as clearly as his own: 'she doesn't know'.

And was that really any surprise?

Though Hiromi had become one of his closest and most cherished friends, the girl who had offered him Pretz at a time when he'd very much needed a sympathetic shoulder, there were things he felt he would never be able to tell his girlfriend. Although things were serious enough between them, there were certain things about his past – stories, events, people – that he could not bring himself to tell anyone. The thought of doctoring anything about _his_ story – the one in particular that had put him in such a dismal mood on the day he'd met her – made his stomach flip uneasily, and he felt it was better left unsaid. It would always be the most precious secret he kept, buried safely between him and the ones who had been there at the end, and he was comfortably resigned in this fact. So of course she did not know, and would not know why he was meeting Jou and Honda, why he would not be home for dinner at six as usual, or why he did not want to go into detail about where they were going.

"Well, I just wanted to talk to you… Since I'm not there and all." Her voice lowered, and Yugi felt his chest tighten.

"Thanks Anzu. We're going to be okay though." His words were slightly muffled as he dragged a sobering hand over his features, tugging his eyelids, then nose, then mouth down with clenched fingers. It was both wonderful and awful to think about this day, and it was so strange that Anzu would not be there for the ritual that marked it.

"I know… Okay, my phone bill is going to look terrible, so I'm gonna hang up." Yugi smiled as her tone brightened, maybe for his benefit, and he chuckled.

"Okay. Sleep well."

"I will. Have a good day, okay?"

"Yeah… bye." He pulled the phone away from his ear even as he heard her utter 'goodbye' from the receiver. As he clicked the call end button, he felt an awkward shiver run up his spine and a ball of lead settle in his stomach.

He cringed as he swung his feet over the side of the bed and put weight on his shins.

Time to begin the day.

* * *

The hours passed rather predictably, with the school children beginning to the flood the store after the first dismissals at 3pm. Typically, they had students milling through the store until nearly closing time as the older children were released from club activities and cram school. Those that showed up in their uniforms at 4pm usually disappeared for dinner, only to show up again later with their friends. Though the Kame Game Shop didn't have all the novelty and stock of the Black Crown, it _did_ have Yugi manning the register, and that was enough to pull in dozens of fledgling duelists until they locked the doors at 8.

At the 4:30 lull, Grandpa relieved Yugi and took over the shop, shooing his grandson. Yugi wondered briefly if his elderly grandfather knew what day it was or why he was setting back dinner, but he didn't have the heart to bring it up. He was just as content to think that his grandfather just wanted him to go meet Hiromi on her walk to the shop before his jaunt with Jou and Honda.

Despite his best intentions, Hiromi appeared at the shop's door before he could finish washing up and leave to meet her. Laden with books and a tear in her stocking, he heard her trudging through the wooden hall into the house before he saw her.

"Ugh, I am never traveling two hours to buy stockings from Shibuya 109 again! Yugi!"

Shuffling out of the kitchen quickly, Yugi crossed the foyer into his living room where Hiromi was holding onto the doorframe as she slipped off her clunky loafers and hopped into her house slippers, one foot already resting on the living room's carpet.

"Who even gave you the idea to go all the way to Tokyo for clothes?" As he spoke, he took her bag from her, slinging it over his shoulder.

"It's Shibuya! You're trying to tell me your friends never once thought about going there to shop?" She stepped into the living room, unzipping her sweater and disrobing as she followed her boyfriend further into the room. They deposited her things under the hall table that had become the de facto spot for anything that came into the house with her as they passed, slinking into the kitchen with all the lethargy of five o'clock.

Yugi shrugged, grinning as he pulled out her chair at the kitchen table, closing the distance to the fridge as she fell into her seat, groaning dramatically. As he went through the motions of pouring her cold black tea, he spoke. "We haven't spent much money on anything besides cards since we were in high school, and I own a game store… Plus Domino has plenty of decent department stores right here."

"Decent being the operative word. Anzu is so fashionable though…"

"If you say so." Yugi chuckled as he deposited the tea in front of his world-weary girlfriend, shrugging. As she pulled the glass of tea closer to her to take a sip, he lingered with one hand on the table and the other holding the back of her chair.

Hiromi took a deep breath, letting go of the glass and turning her childish, pouting face up to meet Yugi's humored smile. "Thank you. Hi." She tilted her head up as he closed the distance and caught her lips in greeting.

His mouth lingered for a moment before he pulled back, dropping a second kiss on her forehead. "Hey."

"Where's your mom?"

Giving her a quizzical look, he turned his back to put the tea away. "Why?"

"We're going to put some more flowers in while you're out and there will still be enough sunlight until dinner?"

At the mention of his outing, he looked up toward the clock over the sink and grit his teeth. It was barely five, but his paranoia about timeliness for this particular ritual dictated that he leave the house sooner than later.

"She's out back now I think. You can go find her. I'm actually going to head out now, ok?"

"Mmkay. Have a good time, and please bring your phone with you." She poked his arm teasingly as he shuffled past her, lingering in her seat so she could finish her tea. "Just tell me when you're on the way back."

"I will." He waved noncommittally towards her as he moved back into the hall and toward the living room.

* * *

Against the city's homeward commute, he bounded spryly up the subway steps forty minutes later. His fisted hands in his pocket tugged his light jacket down so that his hood pressed flush against his hair. In a city where the local pastime happened to be his game, it was very difficult to go anywhere without notice. Even people who didn't play recognized his face from shop windows and TV spots.

As he made it to the end of the block, a gust a cold air stopped him in his tracks; he braced his arms against his body and momentarily regretted the lightweight jersey keeping him anonymous.

But in spite of the wind, the sea was beautiful.

Steeled, he turned the corner and shuffled towards the bay, his hands jingling his keys in his pocket as he moved. His phone felt like lead in his jeans because it was just as silent as it had been since he'd woken up. He had been so swept up by work that he'd never called Jou or Honda, and the radio silence led him to believe they'd had similar days.

Funny.

It hadn't occurred to him that he'd never taken this walk alone.

He lifted his squinting gaze back to the water, and it almost hurt to focus on the sun spots in the still-distant water. The breeze carried the screeching of gulls and the bangs and claxons of the work day ending at the docks.

They had not known where to go on that unremarkable April day in 1996. They'd agonized for weeks before hand when they should have been celebrating their impending graduation; where was the best place to go? What spot was meaningful enough, with no grave, no shrine, no bowl of white rice or incense?

Where could they honor the dead man they'd loved so profoundly?

And then ironically Jounouchi had been the one to suggest they return to where it had arguably started. Chasing the impossibility of his grandfather's kidnapping by means defying explanation, they had boarded a boat at these docks.

They had not returned the same children.

He had not returned alone in his heart, mind and body.

So they had gathered and traveled to the city's western limits and climbed to the park overlooking the water, hanging over the commercial docks like a balcony. And at precisely sunset, they grew still and silent as they afforded themselves one minute to think of nothing but whom they had lost and how very hard it was still to know that he was gone to greener pastures.

Today marked three years since he had crawled into the dank cavern of that cursed tablet and sent his friend away. So how was it that the day crept forward as if nothing remarkable had happened?

Yugi felt the lead in his stomach begin to crawl upward, tensing as its sick tendrils invaded his muscles and crept into his throat, climbing surely up over his cheeks and toward his eyes. His jacket pulled across his back as he curled it around his fists and he pursed his lips stubbornly.

Why was the world still determined to turn?

_You should wear more silver!_

He had stopped asking himself this question two years ago, but on days like this one, even he fell back into old habits.

The water reared up before him as he crossed the last street and slipped into the park gate.

_Will you lend me your strength?_

The space over the docks was really the summit of the cliffside that ran up against the bay. The city at one point or another had carved away at the coastline, building up warehouses and docks; the roads from town cut down into the earth, sloping toward the sea. Some municipal planner must have seen that they were wasting the space's potential and the cliffside park had been their response. It stretched along the metal fencing that ran along the cliff's edge, tapering off as the industry below it thinned until there was only roadway running alongside the sea. The trees were planted in there long rectangular plots, stretching for meters of dense green foliage before the pathways of the park cut the verdant growth into grids. Benches were scattered in the shade, but while the cold winds of early spring still blew, no one would be here to sit in them for weeks yet. Even the toil below had muted to only the sounds of scattered men calling to each other as everyone retreated into the warehouses and garages to finish their day's work. The only sound left was the wind, the water and the gulls.

_Partner._

Yugi grit his teeth because he swore the wind was speaking to him.

As he broke the last line of trees, he squinted again and approached the railing, braced against the sudden pick-up in the breeze. The sun was blinding as it hung over the water like an angry halo, resembling the conspicuous plates of light in the Byzantine art they'd drowned in during world history.

_We did it, partner!_

"Oiiii!"

Yugi jumped as the _real_ voice broke through the trance of the sun on the ocean and the wind hissing cruelly in his ear. He turned, brows knit together in confusion; then, his mouth split in a wide, surprised grin.

Jou jogged toward him from the line of trees, one hand up in greeting. He did not stop until he'd collided with his friend, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he grabbed his friend's head and shook him jovially. For his part, Yugi secretly hoped this greeting, so characteristic of his friend, would never fall out of style.

"Hey, I'm glad you're here. I had such a hell of a time convincing that ass that I couldn't do his stupid pre-tourney card-swap press thing."

"Kaiba wanted you to do a press thing?"

"I have no idea, it was like some briefing on next week's circuit, as if he did something _completely _different this time around." Jou grunted, rolling his eyes at the thought of his begrudging competitor-cum-host. "As if no one has anything better to do."

Yugi snorted at his friend. "That's our life's work you're trash-talking."

"_No_, that's Kaiba admiring his dick."

Yugi laughed as Jou waved at the air, dismissing the topic of the sometimes-belligerent CEO. The blonde turned towards the sea and took a step forward, planting his elbows against the smooth top of the chest-high railing. "You know the time right?"

"6:03pm today." Yugi supplied, leaning beside him.

"It's?"

"It's…" He paused, looking down at his wrist. "5:54."

"Yeesh I cut it close…" Jou swiped a hand through his already mussed hair, and Yugi could tell from the side that he was attempting to shield his shame.

Closing his eyes, his shoulders sunk until he could rest his chin on his crossed arms on the railing. "Did you talk to Honda?"

"I tried once, but I think he's on duty or something. He didn't call me back or nothin'"

"Ah." Yugi's acknowledgment was quiet. His features slumped into a frown, watching two men in jumpsuits push a dolly of boxes away from them toward the southerly warehouses below.

The pair lapsed into silence and a cluster of workers emerged from out of their line of sight, shuffling in a mass toward the road that split the cliffside in half.

_I understand, but if I feel you're in danger, I'm taking over right away!_

Yugi felt the lead from his stomach lance through the angry knot in his throat that balled again like a salted slug. He found his eyes tracking all the way south to the crane that was almost a speck in the distance. They had come here, lured by the misguided Marik with Jou and Anzu as bait, during Kaiba's Battle City. It was the second time they had been at those docks as a posse, and no less significant than the night they'd boarded the ship to Duelist Kingdom.

It was why Jou had thought of this spot, perhaps. They had treaded along the sea here for occasions that had left deep impressions, those that had scarred some of them. Yugi always found himself wondering how Jou remembered that afternoon when they'd almost dueled to the death… when _he _had made the difficult decision to step in and try to save the two men he regarded most dearly from discomfort and certain defeat. Though there had been no words exchanged when it was all over, he had felt the shock and awe from his other heart filtering into his mind, and he'd secretly rejoiced. The respect that had only ever pricked him in unsure spikes had slid over him, and he remembered how he'd stood a little taller and smiled a little wider at his friends, grinning unabashedly while Jou embraced his sister and bore her loving admonition.

_Partner. . ._

Yugi closed his eyes against the blaze of the sinking sun, willing that the sting in his eyes abate. Hadn't he used up all his tears already?

"So I guess…"

Jou's voice bid him to turn his gaze to his friend. But as he waited for the blonde to speak, the sound of a car door shutting curiously close by made them both turn to look behind them.

There at the mouth of the park entrance was a squat police cruiser – and striding toward them, their friend in his uniform, in the process of handling his bulky on-duty transceiver.

"Honda! You slick bastard, you got off duty?"

"Not off, just told 'em they should consider me MIA for fifteen minutes or put their own asses in the fire if they expected me to show up somewhere." Honda was grinning smugly as he relayed his lack of concern to the other men, relegating the transceiver to the back of his hip where it was out of the way. As he stepped within range of his friends, he met Jou's outstretched hand in a clap and then bent his forearm upward, clenching his fingers as they shook in their quasi-secret-handshake.

With all the players assembled (or as many as now resided on this continent), the air suddenly felt charged with anticipation. Honda moved to Yugi's other side as the friends bumped fists, all turning back to regard the water. Casually, the officer glanced at his well-weathered wristwatch and then leaned over the railing, looking for any movement below them. He looked like a child who'd been asked to sit still too long.

"So what time is—"

"It's 6:03pm" was the in-unison reply and he nodded.

"It's really weird that Anzu's not here…"

Yugi said nothing as Jou answered with some positive pleasantry about Anzu making good on her future on the other side of the world. Of course he was thrilled that she had found the things she was looking for, especially when he had kindled to her most closely in the aftermath of it all.

He and Anzu had struggled in the fallout of Egypt. The first days of their final school year were a fog, his memories clouded by the miasma of grieving that stained those first few months. Looking back on it, it was as if he was scaling a solitary rope, and at the very bottom the landscape was covered in dense, somber cloud cover. Only looking back could he understand how long it had taken them to break through the barrier into clear skies. No one had asked much of him at the time; anyone he truly associated with was in on the secret, and his grandfather had played buffer to his mother when she nearly tore herself apart with concern over his mysterious emotional ailments. There was no simple way for him to explain to his mother that his best friend in all the world was dead and he had been the reaper.

"6:00pm."

Yugi nodded, reaching back to feel his jeans pocket and the lump of his phone. The anticipation in the air spiked again even as he rued the arrival of 6:03pm and its three year anniversary tag. There was something completely disheartening in the reality that when the minute hand advanced and sunset officially arrived, there would be no change in the atmosphere, no metaphysical shift in the stars, to mark the occasion. It would simply be another sunset, and it made his heart sick.

"Ugh, I told them… Hello?"

Honda was answering his phone with a grumble, clearly rumpled by his work's intrusion. But then he was pulling his phone away from his face, surprised, and holding the phone before Yugi, face up.

"_Did I miss it?"_

Yugi immediately smiled as the sound of Anzu's voice burst from the speaker, sounding sleep muddled and anxious.

"No… no, you're just in time." Fondness leaked into his voice, coated his words so that they were thick and raspy and he needed to clear his throat.

It was a small kindness from the universe that even now, at zero hour, they had all pulled themselves together to remember for another year a man who had been much too good for this world.

Yugi could tell her next words were really only directed at him.

"_I'm here… I'm with you guys."_

Jou stirred as he pulled his phone out of his pocket again and checked the display clock. Yugi felt the rabbit-like jittering of his legs where their elbows brushed on the railing and it sent another cold lump into his stomach.

"One minute."

He felt the second hand advancing like a small twitch against the synapses in his brain, tightening the muscles in his throat in even intervals. It was like stage fright, the advance of staccato notes and then silence as the curtain opened to reveal them to a sea of eyes. He looked out into the water, wishing in vain that there was a point he could fix his eyes on, some mark that was distinctly there just for them, just for this occasion.

Why were they left to pay this vigil with no acknowledgement from the world? Were the gods that cruel?

Jou's voice mumbled, hoarse, somewhere far away, beside him. "10 seconds."

Yugi inhaled, slowly – his fingers crept over the bar of the railing and he clenched hard, as if preparing for a sudden shockwave, a meteor to ravage the bay before them.

All at once there was cacophony as three alarms started buzzing and chirping and screeching as 6:03pm JST pressed the sun below the horizon, leaving them an 18 degree reflection of the sun's trailing end peeking over the water.

The whole world, for a breath, was silent and Yugi wondered if Jou and Honda heard it too - if Anzu was looking around with the sudden lack of ambient noise of a city pre-dawn. He sensed the movement of arms and felt, dully, as if through layers upon layers of padding, a prod against his back pocket. None of it was enough to pull his gaze away from the trailing sun; his eyes pierced, beseeched the horizon for a sign, for anything that he could cling to, a marker to pray to. He scanned and scanned, the hues of orange saturating his mind's eye.

_I understand… but if I feel you're in serious danger, I'm taking over right away!_

The sun had been setting on them then too. Strangely, so little of that evening had been about them, about their odd romance, but his words of perhaps misplaced protective instinct had never left Yugi.

_Will you lend me your strength?_

He could remember with odd clarity the smell in the air on that evening over five years ago when they had hurried toward this very bay to board the boat to Duelist Kingdom. He had not become completely used to the Puzzle's weight around his neck yet; the rope he had fastened it to dug when he tried to run and the jostling of the hefty metal made the fibers chafe his skin. It had taken him a long time to stop rubbing that place below his hairline absently, even when cord gave way to thick steel links.

_We did it, Partner!_

He had considered the nickname odd, so out of place in their time. Nobody talked about teamwork like that, or so he thought. They fixated on camaraderie, on bonds of course, but never had he heard his peers toss the word "partner" around as if it were a perfectly natural endearment. The word sounded strange, like he wasn't used to its feel on his tongue. It was so perfectly average, so unexceptional – so unbefitting of a special title.

It made him sick how it twisted his heart now. His esophagus burned and he heard it settling over him in his memories, how it had become a blanket, a handhold, a bomb shelter. "Partner" was a prayer, a litany to the heavens.

_I want to be with you forever._

His voice had been a secret treasure, one he hadn't known he'd possessed until the only traces left were interviews uploaded to streaming sites on the internet. That voice, negotiating microphones slickly, was not really his; it was _them_, a magnifying glass, a physical conduit for a voice that was locked inside Yugi's head. It crept through the hollows of his heart, creating groves of sun-spotted grass. It called to mind images of sand dunes and decks of cards and playful bickering, of posturing and gentle teasing. No one but he had ever been allowed to hear it, and he felt nauseous at the thought that no one ever would again.

_I don't care if I don't get my memories back._

Atem was sun creating a warm patch on his carpet through the skylight when harsh wind blew outside. He meant staying awake until 3am talking, forgetting to do homework, and suddenly doing a little better on global history. He was a bigger mug of hot chocolate than usual to sate two sweet tooths. He was never worrying whether he'd have to walk to the train alone because everyone but him had classroom clean-up duty. He was marveling at never running out of things to say, even when he was the first person to speak in the morning and the very last whispers at night.

_Thank you for taking my final trial_.

The sun was leeching out of the concrete under his hands, the warmth fading.

He considered strangely how it reminded him of the cold patches in his chest, the ice water in his finger tips and feet. He wondered sometimes still if he could take a knife to his skin and pour out the cold, though he knew logically that that's not how body temperature worked.

A chill in the soul was not so easily covered with a quilt.

_Let's go Partner! DUEL!_

The cards had been heavier than a broadsword.

_DRAW!_

'Can we just go home and eat a cheeseburger? I'll get you the chargrilled eel you seem to like if only so you can use your chopsticks. My stomach will fit everything, if that's what you're worried about.

Why are we—'

_I lose, Partner._

"_Oh god… oh god, is he okay?"_

"Shh… when else does he let himself…?"

_Stand up. The winner shouldn't be on his knees_.

Could you do whatever you wanted in heaven? Were there endless fields to kick around soccer balls or table tops strewn about to lay out cards and board games? What did you do all day, when you didn't measure time anymore, when _days_ weren't even conceptually relevant anymore? Did you watch the world through a looking glass, through a puddle in the ground?

Was there any reason to think about the living when there was so much to revel in with the dead?

_You're not weak… You've always had a strength no one else could beat… the strength of kindness. That's what I learned from you._

He desperately clung to the memory of Atem's hands. It had been his only opportunity to feel the other exerting pressure on him, to understand his grip. Is this how he touched people when he'd walked in their shoes? Did he hold Jou this tenderly when their hands clasped together in yet another challenge and promise? Had he touched Anzu like this? Did it send the girl into deeper fits of love and longing that applied to each half of their equation in very different ways?

Were his fingers this soft against anyone else's hands?

Had anyone ever touched Yugi like that before Atem?

_I'm not the other you anymore._

He would've traded every single possession he owned to keep that name. No one would ever have occasion to string those particular words together in that order ever again while he breathed, he was sure.

_And you are no one but yourself. You are the only Yugi Mutou in the world._

Blind stumbling.

He was consumed, eaten by loss. He was carrion under the vultures of justice and fate.

Death.

Death.

The reaper dropped his body like an empty husk, content in using him to fulfill this one last "right".

"Oh jeez… fuck."

"_Please, oh god please hug him. Please please please—"_

"I've got you buddy, I've got you."

And then…

Only turning to look behind him could he recognize months' worth of mist keeping him in a coma of robotic brain function and brackish, muddled thoughts. He heard the world through cotton-stuffed ears; his head always hurt and it was easier to let other people help him deal with everything than to stand without leaning.

But what choice did he have? There was no way he could let other people carry him for the rest of his life – not now, after everything they'd been through. He climbed onto knees full of rusted gears and brushed off dust and started to trudge. He found the volume dial on his masochistic inner dialogue; he figured out how to turn the voices off at night that kept him awake and created that permanent damp spot in his pillow.

He tried to lock Atem into his heart, to keep it all prisoner where it could not hurt him from behind bars. The grief could not touch him, and neither could it leave him. He would carry it with him as his very last possession until he ceased to be.

"Breathe bud…"

Yugi came into himself again, realizing he was on his knees. As his eyes focused – his head spun, and he tried not to sway – he took in cement and the shadows of bars and scattered dark splotches on the concrete.

His face itched, his eyes burned – his throat was a slowly softening lead pipe. The sun had barely moved and he still felt lingering warmth on his face, though the breeze blowing past just as surely stole the heat away. Brushing the back of one hand against his cheek, he realized where the dark circles on the ground had come from. He drew a deep breath, swallowing as he dashed at the tears, suddenly aware and embarrassed.

"_Is he okay?"_

Before either man could speak for him, the smallest croaked weakly. "I'm fine Anzu. Thanks."

He could hear Honda let out a slow, tense breath, as if they had just dodged a massive hurdle. He supposed it was a fair reaction – they could do nothing but watch him cave under the lingering, clawing sadness. What was there to say anymore?

He groped for the bars, felt Jou tugging on his shoulders to try to help him up clumsily. He did not swipe his friend's hands away as he lifted himself with the railing as leverage. The metal was cold with the sea winds – the sunshine had given way. Sunset was over, and so passed another year.

Clearing his throat, Yugi scratched at the back of his head awkwardly, hoping someone would speak. The catharsis was still wearing off, if that's what he could call it. He was not ready to acknowledge his tears and wished that they could just start thinking about something else.

What was left for them to talk about? It had been some time since any one of them had found something new, something hopeful to say about their friend's passing. Every one of them knew how blessed they had been to know Atem – no one questioned what was right then, knowing it was still right now, and always would be. So they tried to move on, to take their loss in stride as they pushed forward into life after. And hadn't they been doing a good job of it? Jou was getting better in his dueling circuit every season, and Anzu had a steady ensemble role in her Broadway production. Honda was still stuck in his rookie beat, but had aspirations of scaling the echelons to the violent crimes division.

And Yugi? He had his business degree from technical school. He had his King of Duelists title, his fame and glory, his respect. He had the shop to retire to whenever he felt like it. He had Hiromi, and Mama and Grandpa.

This was what people called 'happiness', right?

Could he have both, the happiness and the yawning ache, at once? Was one an insult to the other? If he had to give one up, which would he choose?

He gritted his teeth as he reached this impasse in his mind, maybe for the millionth time in three years.

"You know Yugi… it's okay to… yanno.." Jou's voice filtered, fumbling into his stream of conscious.

Honda, galvanized by the icebreaker, surged forward, grasping the railing and leaning around Jou to look at his most diminutive friend. "Yeah… You know, it's healthy. We can't ever accept it if we don't cry about it once in a while."

Yugi suspected that Honda's use of 'we' was really only meant to mean him.

"_We'll be able to make peace with it one day…" _Anzu's voice was low, and she sounded dreary but resolute, like it had been a mantra she'd worn out long ago.

Yugi flinched as he tried to grapple the concept. 'Make peace'? What did it mean to 'make peace'?

"Yeah… just let it go…" Jou's voice was faraway, like he was speaking more to himself than any of the people present.

Yugi's head snapped toward him, and the sudden movement brought their attention back to him.

"_Let it go_? I can't."

He watched as their brows snapped down and immediately Jou's hand was on his shoulder again but he shook his head violently, dislodging him. "You don't understand. I can't "let it go". I don't _want _to "let it go"."

Anzu's voice rose, faltering. "_Yugi, he would want you to."_

"I know that! I know what he 'would want'. This isn't about that." He felt bile in his throat, the clumsy slosh of panic in his stomach. All of his hair stood on end, like he was a cornered animal. They were looking at him with concern, with pity – with fundamental misunderstanding. They were two islands, parted by dark, frigid waters.

"Yugi—"

"_This _is all I have left!"

His voice rang out and he felt it fall like an anvil on their protest, crushing their words in their windpipes. His breath tumbled out, and his harried confessions with it.

"There's nothing left of him! All I have is a box and _this – _this pain! If I let go of that…"

Surely, like a branding iron, he felt the itch of hot tears sliding down his cheeks again, but this time he was aware. It was difficult to explain his innermost demons to even his closest friends, when he knew that it was something they wouldn't understand. How could he rationalize holding onto the hurt, when every fiber of his body ached for relief?

"But… our memories Yug'. Nothing can ever take those yah? We have them." There was a desperate, lonely quality in Jou's voice. Perhaps Yugi's words struck a chord somewhere down under the layers of stubborn determination, plucking at him with cruel disregard.

Yugi wound his arms around himself and felt his throat constrict. Had his friends been able to tell themselves that memories would be enough sustenance to get them through this life? Was the mantra becoming a reality for them? Tomorrow, next week, in ten years, would the memories still be there to whet their appetites for a life that was over? It scared him that somewhere in the distant future, he would not remember the low rumble of Atem's voice against his eardrums, or the touch of his fingers around Yugi's arms as he lifted him to his feet one last time. At least the pain was visceral – he would not forget it for as long as it burned in his chest, nor the man that had lit the pyre there.

He sounded like a shell of himself when he finally spoke.

"I know. That's why it hurts so much."

And when he looked at the water again, the sun's warmth was gone and the wind whipped the tears from his cheeks.

* * *

By the time he was walking up the street to the shop, twilight was all but gone and only the reflection of the moon kept the city side street illuminated. Stragglers from the day's commute were scrambling over their thresholds to join their families, and Yugi could find no convincing reason not to do the same. The day he'd waited for was over. Even if there were still hours left to midnight, nothing about this day belonged to him but for that solitary moment – that minute of sunset where the whole world stopped so he could remember a love that had gone to soil.

He had closed the iron bars around his heart again. Atem, all the joy and pain, seemingly equal in part, was caged safely inside him where it could weigh him down until he drowned. It was a strange and sad analogy to make, but it was the only option that seemed bearable to Yugi, for all the optimism he had ever bandied about and held still to this day.

This was not about wallowing in his grief. It was not about hurting himself to prove a point, or to earn pity from the measly few that knew why he had occasion to mourn in the first place. He did not bury the pain inside him and let it stagnate so that he could have a reason to never leave his room, to not eat, to not sleep – he had no intentions of avoiding life in his quest to preserve his sorrow.

Yugi turned around the front of the building and trudged up the steps, digging in his pocket to find his keys. Belatedly, he realized he'd never phoned to let Hiromi know he was on his way home.

There was no other way to keep Atem alive. There were so many beautiful words and sentiments about the swelling power of memory, about cherishing the times with loved ones passed. It was made out to be ambrosia for the lonely soul, to be the salve to a very mortal, very normal part of life. But the memories, Yugi knew sickly well, were only as real as his brain could make them; they were not enough. They were reels and reels of old film, growing mustier and more fragile as the days slid by.

Could he keep them forever, stored in some beautiful treasure box? He knew that he could not – that his own mind, with age, would betray him. Even the grief would dull, become blunt as the years mounted.

And the end of grief – "moving on" as people liked to say – was another kind of death all itself. Yugi knew, better than he knew anything, that he could not see Atem die before him twice.

He entered the shop, remarkably calm considering the thoughts that roiled in his skull. He had made peace with the difficult conditions of perpetual mourning. It was synonymous with equilibrium now, and he was able to find his stride, and a smile, despite the dreary, stifled cage between his ribs.

"I'm home!"

He passed through the dark shop, straight into the adjoining hallway and slipped automatically from his sneakers, leaving them in the recessed hall as he stepped up into the house. The chorus of "welcome back!" drew him onward to the kitchen where everyone was present. Grandpa sat at the table with his tea and a newspaper while Mama had her back turned to him, standing before the tiny stove where she was searing tofu.

Hiromi turned toward him balancing full bowls of rice. "Good timing! I was ready to go out and look for you!" She smiled, and he knew that she was not miffed about the lack of phone call.

"I could smell it down the street. I wasn't about to miss nikujaga!" He grinned, meeting her at the table and helping her set down the bowls without fumbling the ceramic. "I'll get out the sauce. How was planting?"

Hiromi nodded as she retrieved the small dishes reserved for soy sauce and the large curry spoons from the utensil drawer. "It was good, right Mrs. Mutou?"

Mama piped up, and Yugi could hear the smile on her face even with her back turned. "Oh yes, we made a lot of progress. I can't wait to see what blooms this year."

Yugi smiled; he had very little interest in gardening, but whatever made his mother and girlfriend happy was good enough for him. Hiromi managed to muster interest in his dueling whenever the occasion called for it, and he would gladly do the same for her. "I'm sure it'll be nice. When are they going to bloom?"

Hiromi sat heavily, her breath coming out in a whoosh. "Probably the beginning of May. I wish we didn't have to wait so long!" She leaned to the side in her chair holding her hand out and beckoning Yugi to sit in the chair to her right.

He came to the table with the soy sauce and a glass of tea for himself, sitting and taking her hand casually. She seemed content to have him rest their twined fingers on his thigh, and she continued on in a happy flurry.

"I was so excited about planting this year that I kind of got ahead of myself and potted some flowers at my house…in January."

Mama laughed as she turned to them with the hot skillet in one hand and her long, black, rubber-tipped cooking chopsticks in the other. Smoothly she doled out the fried tofu squares onto one of the serving plates on the table. "Oh really? How did they turn out?"

"Not too good… I only got one pot to grow. But you know, I love that idea – of growing something in the middle of winter when everything is still dead in the ground."

Yugi was slightly taken by the depth in her statement and regarded her with mild wonder. He had yet to stop finding things to love about the girl next to him.

"Yes, it's all very romantic. Young women have so much beauty in their hearts." Sugoroku laughed heartily and Yugi snickered, aware of his grandfather's sometimes disturbing fondness for the young women he was extolling.

His mother was now ladling their main course into a serving bowl. "What did you manage to grow, dear?"

Hiromi beamed, looking back at her boyfriend, as if he were the one interested. "Actually, sunflowers! I have a really nice petite stalk of one and its flowers are starting to get very big!"

Yugi didn't know whether that was unusual, but his mother seemed to be pleased. She set the bowl into the center of the table and stepped back as her father chided her to sit.

"That's wonderful! I'm sure they're lovely – they're not too easy to grow in pots – that's very impressive."

Hiromi glowed as she leaned forward to start serving the people around the table. Yugi wished, for a split second, that she could have left her hand in his. Instead, he leaned forward and pulled the dish of fried tofu toward himself, flipping his chopsticks between his fingers to fish a piece onto his plate.

Sunflowers growing in the middle of winter?

Well, stranger things had happened.

* * *

A/N: Kinda extremely personal. Thanks so much for reading everyone.


End file.
